It's a Curl Thing

by Jacquelin Thomas

  I struggle to keep my tears from falling. “I will, Mrs. G. I promise.”

  She reaches up to wipe away an escaping tear from my eye. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. This is not what you want for me.” She winces, and her face seems gray. “I am lying here in so much pain. I’m fine when they give me medication, but otherwise, the agony is too much to bear at times. I don’t have a strong constitution for pain.”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t want you in all that pain. But—”

  Mrs. Goldberg interrupts me. “I’m ready to leave this world, Rhyann. And when I go, I will carry you in my heart.”

  I take her pale ivory hand in my chocolate-hued one. “Thank you for being my friend, Mrs. G. You taught me so much, and I want you to know that I’ll never forget you. I wish I could’ve had more time with you.”

  “If I’d ever had a daughter…I would want her to be just like you, Rhyann. Of course, I’d have to do some explaining to my boo.”

  I laugh, but it’s cut short when she grimaces.

  “Are you in pain?” I ask.

  She nods limply.

  Miss Marilee goes to the door and asks the nurse to come.

  “I’m never going to see her again, am I?” I ask Miss Marilee when we leave the bedroom. “She’s so weak.”

  She hugs me. “I don’t know, sweetie. All I know is that we’re going to miss her so much.”

  Just as we walk outside, Mrs. Goldberg’s mother arrives.

  “Mrs. Braddock, it’s nice to see you,” I say.

  She greets me with a hug. “Thank you for coming. You and Marilee. I know Ann appreciates it greatly. She’s always cared about her appearance.”

  “How are you holding up?” Miss Marilee asks.

  “As well as I can. This is so hard for me. I’ve seen so much death…”

  “I feel the same way,” I say. “Life really isn’t fair.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Mrs. Braddock agrees. “But we live on, trying to make it just one more day. My Ann…I don’t want to lose her, but it pains me even more to see her wasting away in that bed upstairs.”

  I’m totally surprised when Mimi, Divine, and Alyssa show up at my house that evening.

  “What are you guys doing?” I ask. “Slumming?”

  “No,” Mimi responds. “This is a nice area. It’s not a slum.”

  I glance at Divine, and we break into laughter. Mimi can be such an airhead at times.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing, Mimi,” I respond.

  We all pile into my not-huge bedroom.

  “I see you and Divine have the same passion for purple,” Alyssa says.

  “You just changed your room from that Pepto-Bismol pink to a black-and-white theme,” responds Divine.

  “With red accents,” Alyssa interjects with a smile. “I want a room that shows my maturity.”

  “Like whatever,” Divine mutters.

  When her cell phone starts ringing, Divine checks the caller ID. She looks puzzled. “It’s T. J. I just talked to him last night.”

  “Your boo is missing you,” Mimi teases.

  “I’ll call him back later. I’m kicking it with my B.F.F.’s right now.”

  Alyssa laughs. “She’ll be calling him back in about five minutes. Just watch.”

  Divine elbows her. “I’m not like you. I don’t have to talk to T. J. every other hour. I’m surprised your phone isn’t blowing up already. Stephen is usually so prompt, and look, he’s already missed the noon call.”

  “Ha-ha…so funny,” Alyssa mutters. “Don’t hate…my boo loves hearing my voice.”

  “Rhyann, what’s wrong?” Divine asks. “You seem like you’re in your own little world.”

  “I was just thinking about Mrs. G. She’s getting worse…she’s going to die. I prayed so hard for her. I thought she would be healed—that’s what I prayed for.”

  “Nooo…,” Mimi says. “That’s so sad.”

  “She looked so weak when I saw her earlier. I keep praying for God to heal her, but I don’t think he’s hearing me.”

  “He is,” Alyssa assures me. “God hears all of your prayers.”

  “Alyssa is a preacher’s kid,” Mimi says. “Maybe she should pray for Mrs. G.”

  “Being a PK doesn’t give Alyssa a direct hotline to God,” Divine interjects.

  “But it might give her bonus points,” Mimi says with a chuckle. “We don’t go to church at all, but when I get to heaven, I’m going to tell God that it’s my parents’ fault.”

  “Why don’t you go without them?” Alyssa suggests. “You don’t have to wait on your parents to take you. You drove all the way here and we passed quite a few churches along the way. Just pick one and go.”

  “Is God going to hold it against me if I don’t go?” she wants to know.

  “Mimi, God’s not like that,” Alyssa states. “He’ll meet you wherever you are. You only have to open your heart, repent of your sins, believe with your heart, and confess with your mouth that Jesus Christ died on the cross and rose from the dead so that you might be forgiven and have eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven. Then you will receive the gift of Salvation.”

  Shaking her head, Mimi says, “No, that’s like way too easy. It’s got to be more than that, because if it were that easy, why isn’t everybody saved?”

  “Because some people don’t have a lot of faith and they listen to what the world is saying,” Alyssa responds. “That’s why it’s so important to read the Bible and get to know Jesus for yourself.”

  “It still sounds too easy to me,” Mimi says. “There has to be more to it.”

  “There is,” Divine confirms. “You have to find a church home and like Alyssa says, read the Bible. You love drama, so you shouldn’t have a problem with the Word. There’s a whole lot of drama in the Bible.”

  I nod in agreement, but my heart is filled with sadness over the thought of Mrs. Goldberg dying.

  You didn’t save my mom or my aunt. Why won’t you at least save my friend, God?

  Chapter 21

  Miss Marilee meets me at the door when I walk into the salon four days later. We head straight back to her office. I notice that everyone is pretty quiet.

  She looks upset about something, so I ask, “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No, hon,” she responds. “Not at all. The reason I brought you back here is because I need to tell you something.”

  Scanning her face, I can tell Miss Marilee’s been crying. “What’s wrong?”

  “Ann Goldberg died early this morning.”

  Shocked, I put a hand to my mouth. “But we just saw her on Saturday. She didn’t look like she was gonna die so quickly.” I think back, remembering her looking so frail in that bed. “I know she said she was ready. I guess God took her up on it.”

  “Her husband called me shortly after I got here. He said she passed peacefully.”

  “How is he doing?” I ask, trying to hold back my tears. “And Mrs. Braddock? Is she okay?”

  “He’s as well as can be expected, I guess,” Miss Marilee responds. “Her mother is taking it pretty hard, though. She had to be hospitalized this morning.”

  I place my hand across my stomach, trying to calm the nervousness inside. “I knew it was gonna happen, but I still can’t believe this.”

  “It’s still hard for me to grasp as well,” Miss Marilee echoes. “Rhyann, you should go on home. I know how much you liked Ann, and I know it’s hard on you. China’s leaving in a few minutes—she can take you home.”

  I don’t argue with Miss Marilee this time. I’m definitely not in the mood to work today. Besides, I can’t keep my tears back any longer.

  I stay in the office until China comes to the door, saying, “I’m ready. We can leave now.”

  Auntie Mo is waiting on the porch for me when I get home. Miss Marilee must have called her and told her about Mrs. Goldberg. She doesn’t say a word, just holds out her arms to me.

  I rush into them, seeking her comfort.
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  My tears fall at once. “She’s g-gone,” I moan.

  “I know, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  “I don’t u-understand, Auntie Mo. Why did God take her?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe He needed her with Him.”

  “He’s God,” I say. “He doesn’t need anyone.”

  “Ssssh…sweetheart. Let’s go into the house.”

  Auntie Mo takes me to the kitchen and fixes me a cup of hot chamomile tea. I cry until no more tears will come.

  “Why don’t you go lay down for a while?” she suggests.

  I nod and make my way to my bedroom.

  Divine calls me around six, waking me up. “Where are you? Are you with a client?”

  “I’m home,” I respond.

  “Oh, I thought you were working today,” she says.

  I sit up in bed. “I went to work, but I had to leave. I couldn’t work today because of some bad news.”

  “What happened?” she asks.

  “My friend is dead,” I announce. “Mrs. G is dead.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Rhyann. Do you want us to come over?”

  “To be honest, Dee, I just want to be alone. I’m still having trouble believing it.”

  “I’m not trying to be cruel or anything, but you sorta knew this was going to happen.”

  “I really didn’t think it would be this soon, Dee. I just saw her on Saturday. Yeah, she looked weak and all, but I really thought she had more time.”

  A hot tear rolls down my cheek. “This is so wrong. Her dying just reminds me of my mom’s death and then losing Aunt Cherise. Right now I’m so mad at God. I can’t even talk to Him right now.”

  “I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better.”

  “I wish you could tell me why my mom and my aunt had to die. Why did Mrs. G have to die?”

  Nothing but silence fills the other end of the phone.

  “Are you going to the funeral?” Divine asks, after a brief pause.

  “Yeah. I think she’d want me there.”

  “I’m really sorry, Rhyann.”

  “Me too.”

  “You sure you don’t want us to come over? We don’t have to stay long, but I just think we need to be there for you.”

  I try to muster up a joke. “You can come only if you all agree to not take any pictures of me with my swollen eyes. I look like a frog right now.”

  “We’ll give you a reprieve this time, Rhyann. Do you want any comfort food?”

  “Auntie Mo is making macaroni and cheese for me. Can you bring me some chocolate ice cream?”

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Something funny to watch,” I say. “Make sure it has nothing to do with anybody dying. I can’t handle another death.”

  “Okay, I have my orders. You get some rest and we’ll be there soon.”

  “Thanks, Divine.”

  “You’ve always been there for me. This is the least I can do for one of my B.F.F.s. See you in a few.”

  “Okay.”

  Mimi, Divine, and Alyssa show up with pepperoni pizza, ice cream, popcorn, and movies two hours later.

  “Wow…,” I murmur.

  “We’re here to cheer you up,” Mimi states with her I’m so happy attitude. Right now I find that a bit irritating.

  “I’m not sure your plan is gonna work,” I respond. “I’m so not in the mood to be cheered up.” My eyes travel to Divine. “Sorry. I told you this might not work.”

  She hugs me. “That’s why we’re here. If you need to cry—do it. I’ll pass the tissues.”

  “Where do you want me to put this pizza?” Alyssa asks.

  Auntie Mo strolls into the living room. “Hon, I’ll take it and put it on the counter. How have you been, Alyssa?”

  She smiles. “Fine, Miss Winfield. Glad to be out of school for the summer.”

  “Look at you, Divine. You’re growing up into a fine young lady.”

  I make a face.

  “Don’t hate…,” Divine whispers.

  After a moment, I say, “I did what you told me to do, Dee. I prayed for her and I believed that she was going to be healed. Maybe it’s because I’m not doing something right.”

  “It’s not you, Rhyann,” Alyssa tells me. “My daddy preached about this a couple of weeks ago. He told me that there were two types of healing. Healing on this side and healing on the other side. Your friend is healed—she’s not in any pain now.”

  “I guess I hadn’t looked at it like that,” I mumble. “I would rather have her healed and living in this world. I know it sounds selfish, but it’s the truth.”

  “You’ll see her again,” Alyssa says.

  “Rhyann hopes she will, anyway.”

  I resist the urge to snatch that weave out of Mimi’s head. “You’re the one who has to worry if Jesus is gonna slam the door in your face. I go to church, so He’s seen me many times. He doesn’t have a clue as to who you are.”

  Deep down I know that’s not true. Jesus knows all of us, including people who deny Him. I just like irritating Mimi from time to time.

  “I’m going to heaven, too,” she counters. “I did what Alyssa told me to do. I did it when I went home that night. You all won’t be getting rid of me that easy. I’ll be right up there with you. So there.”

  We can’t help but laugh. That chick is a nut, but I love her.

  China does some research on Jewish funerals and gives her mom and me a quick tutorial on some of the customs. “When someone dies, the body is never left alone,” she states.

  “What do you mean, it’s never left alone?” I ask. “Who in their right mind would want to stay around a dead body?”

  “It’s their way of honoring the dead,” China explains. “The guardian prays for the soul and reads psalms from the time of death to the burial.”

  “Our funerals are nothing like that,” I comment. “You wouldn’t be able to get not one person in my family to sit with a dead body. We’ll pray for your soul, but we won’t be sitting beside your body like that. No way.”

  “Oh, the other thing is that we can’t wear pants. The women wear dresses to the funeral.”

  “I can do that,” I say.

  “And we should try to get there early. From what I read, Jewish funerals start on time.”

  Both Miss Marilee and China glance in my direction.

  “I’ll be on time,” I say.

  The next day, I ride with Miss Marilee and China to the funeral.

  “Do I look okay?” I whisper to China.

  She nods in approval at my navy blue dress and matching shoes. “You look perfect. Mrs. G would be so pleased.”

  “She’d probably think I’d lost my mind. You know how flashy she used to dress.”

  “You’re probably right,” Miss Marilee says in a low voice.

  When we arrive, the funeral director directs us to our seats after giving each of us an attendance card to fill out. I notice that Miss Marilee adds a brief message of condolence, so I do the same.

  I glance around the funeral parlor. Mrs. Goldberg had many friends, from the looks of it. As people filter in, a low rumble of conversation develops.

  The family enters. I notice how pale Mrs. Braddock looks, and I say a silent prayer that she’ll be strong enough to get through this day.

  The rabbi leads the congregation in prayer.

  My eyes fill and overflow during the eulogy.

  After the service, I walk out to the car with China and Miss Marilee.

  China places the sticker on the windshield, identifying her car as part of the funeral.

  “I’m going to miss her,” Miss Marilee says once we’re in the car and on our way to the cemetery.

  “Me too,” I say from the backseat. “That little redheaded diva turned out to be a pretty nice person.”

  China chuckles. “I remember the first time I met Mrs. G. That woman knows she worked my nerves. I told Mama that we should’ve just limited our clientele to African Americans. But the
more I got to know her, the more I liked her, even though she wouldn’t leave a tip for nothing. Mama was the only one willing to do her hair.”

  We reach the cemetery fifteen minutes later, and we are directed to the graveside, where we find rows of empty chairs for the family. Just as I’m about to drop down into one on the last row, China whispers, “These are for the family and close friends, Rhyann. We’re supposed to stand around the grave.”

  “Oh,” I mutter.

  After several very long prayers, it’s a struggle to maintain my attention until the end of the service, when we’re invited to throw dirt into the grave after the casket is lowered.

  After the funeral, Mr. Goldberg comes over to us. “Thank you all for coming.”

  “Ann was a dear friend,” Miss Marilee tells him. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  “Ann left a letter for you, Rhyann. I’ll have someone drop it off at the salon in a few days.”

  “Mr. Goldberg, I understand. Take your time.” I want to make anything I can easy for him. “If I’m not there, I know Miss Marilee will make sure I get it.”

  He smiles. “I can see why my Ann loved all of you so much.”

  “We loved her, too,” China responds.

  Mrs. Braddock greets us with tears in her eyes. We speak with her for a few minutes, then take our leave.

  By the time I make it home, I’m mentally exhausted.

  Traven comes by to check on me, and we end up watching a movie together with Brady and Phillip.

  After Traven leaves, I go to my room.

  I turn on my computer and log into my journal.

  July 2nd

  I attended Mrs. G’s funeral earlier today. I’d never been to a Jewish funeral before. If it hadn’t been my friend’s service—I could probably appreciate this more but instead my heart hurts.

  It hurts because I miss her. Mrs. G was sweet, funny and a snazzy dresser—at least that’s how she described herself. Her husband—no, her boo—told me that she left a letter for me. I don’t know what it says or when I’ll read it. I just don’t think I can do it anytime soon. Maybe when the pain isn’t so bad.